Weidel is a city of mess halls, whose mahogany floors are littered with wood shavings and debris. The children play amidst the sediments of old stews and wheat and horse dung, careless and caution-less and free. Their elders, never sullen, quaff wheat beer like water and dance on the tables until nightfall.
These Weidels are a happy lot, fat and drunk. On Sundays, they sell produce near the covered bridges and then boil great stews in their shared kitchens. There are houses for the couples, but no one is found there. Most nights the halls are full of cots and bunks so that when the light shines through the cracked roofs at morning, the haze in their eyes will be shared.